Mist Runner
by Bad Luck Bree
Summary: Buliwyf and his warriors did not arrive alone at the Mead Hall of Hrothgar. A strange girl from the surrounding territories accompanied them. A girl who had a strange story to go with her strange appearance. No pairing...as of now.
1. Prologue

Prologue

_The thirteenth warrior shall be no Northman._

Thirteen warriors sailed to the land of Hrothgar.

Fourteen arrived at the Mead Hall. And two were not Northmen.

One was a Northwoman.

Come and I shall tell you the untold tale of the last of Aslaug's children. The lost child, the lost and forgotten one. Much like you, young and restless in the world…and alone. Alone and forsaken. No one was told of the role played by this girl.

Yes, when set alongside such warriors as Herger the Joyous, Edgtho the Silent and Buliwyf himself, she would diminish in her worth and renown. And you are right. None remember her…none know she was there. Perhaps she prefers it that way. Renown is not what she was seeking. She left that to those who thought fame was all that mattered.

She sought revenge for what had been done, not only to her kin, but to her. Left to die, abandoned, orphan of the wilds…she found herself living alone, slipping slowly into the madness of despair and hopelessness. And that was how they found her, alone and stripped of everything; sanity, possessions, hope…

This tale may seem fantastic to you. If you do not believe in the truth of this story, at least enjoy it as a fanciful yarn of what the old days used to be.

So remember the fourteenth traveler. And remember the warrior known as the Mist Runner.


	2. Unexpected Companion

Chapter I

Unexpected Companion

The sky was one unending sheet of gray, broken with a few tears of charcoal. Fog lay heavy over the water, coating everything in a dampness that seemed to seep through to the bones.

Ahmed Ibn Fahalan Ibn Al Abbas Ibn Rashid Ibn Hamad sat miserably, trying not to show his discomfort. He was still unused to the cold, wet climate of these northern lands, but he dare not give the men he traveled with any more reasons to jeer at him, however 'innocent' their jibes were. Shifting the weight of the heavy broadsword slung across his back, he stood, squinting his eyes as he looked toward the others.

"Edgtho has been gone a while," came the voice of one. He recognized the voice of Ragnar, a grim-faced old warrior.

"Even he is unfamiliar with these lands," came the answer from the smallest of the group, a man known by the name of Herger. He left the others to join Ahmed, passing him a gleeful smile, "Why the frown, little brother? Do you not find this land a pleasant one? Or have you tired of being wet?" He laughed, thumping Ahmed heartily on the back, almost knocking him over.

Ahmed righted himself, watching as the horses were unloaded from the ship, tossing their heads as they were brought onto dry land again. His own horse, a small, delicate creature from the Arabian breed, was brought out as well.

Ahmed began to saddle his horse, but took this time to observe his surroundings. The land was harsh looking, cold and unforgiving as the sea they had just come from. A vast forest lay before them, dripping with the heavy dew, dark, wet trees looming up like great giants. Ahmed shuddered involuntarily, turning his attention to his horse.

Halga, a massive bull of a man, strode past Ahmed, reaching out and ruffling the mane of the smaller Arabian horse. He laughed gruffly as the horse shied away slightly from the Norseman's hand. He spoke to Ahmed in a jovial tone, "Your dog, he is uneasy!"

Ahmed looked down, avoiding any real eye contact, "He is unused to a forest…"

_As am I…_

Halga shook his head, but didn't reply, moving on with his own horse, a large draft animal. Ahmed looked away, back to the forbidding fringe of dark trees.

He then saw Edgtho, the dark haired tracker, emerge from the tree line, beckoning to the leader of the group. Ahmed's eyes followed the broad shouldered form of Buliwyf, still mystified by the man. One look at him was enough to ensure that he was a warrior, but a cunning, intelligent man as well. A good candidate for chieftainship.

Edgtho leaned down from his saddle, whispering something to Buliwyf. Buliwyf's strong face showed no reaction to the tracker's words. He simply turned, making a quick motion to his men, who had by now all saddled their horses, mounted and were ready to depart.

Ahmed looked to Herger, who had taken his place beside him. Herger seemed willing to be Ahmed's 'mentor' in this land that was strange to him. He spoke in a low voice, "What…what is it?"

Herger raised a hand, "Shh…we'll find out soon enough."

Buliwyf, now mounted on his own horse, sidestepped the animal toward the others, speaking slowly and calmly, "Edgtho was followed on his way back. Arab…" He didn't look at Ahmed as he addressed him, though Ahmed was turning his head toward the trees, "…do not look. Whatever it is…it's still there."

Ahmed quickly looked down, hearing Herger inquire, "Is there only one?"

"Edgtho says he only saw one."

"Do you think it will leave the trees?"

Edgtho joined them, answering Herger, "I am not sure. But we need to get through the forest. We will have to be careful. Where is Rethel?"

"Here, Edgtho," came the reply. An older man, gray haired and scarred, stepped forward, holding his longbow at the ready. This man fascinated Ahmed. He was perhaps the oldest of the group, but still a great warrior. While he wasn't as skilled in hand-to-hand combat, he was still able to fire his bow with deadly accuracy. And the bow he carried was no eastern short-curved bow. It was a solid thing, and Ahmed could only imagine how much strength it took to draw it back.

The tracker nodded to the archer, "I will go in front, you will follow in the rear."

Rethel nodded, then strode away without a word.

Ahmed heard Herger leaning over in his saddle. He turned to meet his face. Herger smiled at him, "Nervous, little brother? You may have a chance to practice with your new blade!"

Ahmed winced slightly as the heavy sword shifted on his back, "I am no Northman…how can I fight with a northern blade?"

Herger shrugged, "Like any other blade. Form doesn't matter. How many enemies you kill does."

Buliwyf had given the signal to move out, and Ahmed found himself near the rear, slightly in front of Rethel and next to Weath, a youthful red-haired warrior. Ahmed didn't speak. No one spoke or made a sound. And they didn't look at the canopy of trees, even though, by watching the shadows on the ground next to them, Ahmed could tell…

They were being followed.

They halted toward midday, forming a circle with their horses and making a meager meal of their rations. Ahmed's stomach had never settled well with the food these men ate. It was different from his normal diet, but he was slowly growing used to the heavy meat and coarse bread.

He sat, holding the new blade before him. He didn't even dare to draw it, he was so afraid of it. He had never considered himself a warrior. Oh, he had some skill in swordsmanship, but that was with a curved blade.

He was jerked from his reverie as a blood-curdling scream rent the damp air, followed by snarls and shouts. He leaped up, looking about wildly. Outside the ring of horses, he saw three of the men, Roneth, Halga and Ragnar, struggling wildly with something. Pushing his way through to them as the rest of the men made their way to see, he got a better look.

Halga had his arm around the waist of a figure as Ragnar and Roneth kept tight hold of its arms and legs. It was growling madly, spitting and hissing like an animal. Ahmed saw Buliwyf looking coolly at the figure. It went still, glaring back at Buliwyf.

Then Ahmed was able to get a better look at it.

It was a wild looking person, a long mane of pale blonde, almost white hair streaked with slime falling in disarray over broadly built shoulders, two blazing eyes of a startling pale blue staring out at them. It was a strongly built creature, broad shoulders and supple, rigid muscles. It was dressed in what looked like animal pelts, a string of animal gut serving as a belt, and the pale skin was covered in old or new scars from exposure.

But he had to look closer to realize that this creature was a girl, surely no older than nineteen or twenty years.

Buliwyf examined the figure, which was still glaring balefully at him. He spoke slowly and calmly, "Tell me, maiden…why were you following us?"

The girl bared her teeth, which, to Ahmed's horror, were strangely filed. She spat at Buliwyf's feet, snarling out something that resembled broken Norse, something so disjointed that Ahmed, still newly fluent in the language, had trouble understanding it.

Halga, still holding onto the girl, squeezed slightly, causing her to choke. She wriggled, then growled out something else. This time Ahmed caught it.

"Helldogs! Let me go! I only wanted…horse!"

Buliwyf tilted his head slightly, watching the struggling girl, "What are you called?"

She went still, narrowing her eyes.

"Skade…my name…Skade."

Herger made a strange gesture. Ahmed whispered to him, "What does that mean?"

"Her name means death," Herger whispered back, making the gesture again. He looked back to the girl, "She must be out of her head."

Ahmed could believe that. The girl certainly _looked_ insane.

"Why did you want the horse?" asked Buliwyf, his face as emotionless as his voice.

Skade hissed at him, lips drawn back again.

"Why are you here?"

"We come on an errand to serve the lord of this land," Buliwyf answered, his hand resting lightly on his sword hilt.

Skade spat out in bitter scorn, "Pah! Hrothgar the fool, you mean? He's mad, you know!"

Buliwyf was not impressed with her, "I advise you to speak better of your lord."

"Not _my_ lord!" Skade growled back, and Ahmed noticed that her words were fluent. Or perhaps he was simply learning more of the language. "I follow my own law!"

Buliwyf looked the maid up and down. He could believe easily that she fended for herself. She looked as wild as any mountain deer and as fierce as any bear. But also, she looked as mad as she looked wild.

"Skade…it is not your real name, is it?"

The girl withdrew her tongue from her teeth, eyes narrowing, "It is the name I gave myself! I have no other name."

A few quizzical looks from the men. This girl was without a doubt mad. The long scar down the side of her face, which Ahmed just now noticed as the irregular color of the skin caught a shadow, gave testimony to some horrible accident. Perhaps something that had damaged her head deeply. He also saw many marks on her body that resembled clawmarks, as if an animal had attacked her and left scars where its claws had shorn through the skin. Her pale eyes caught his gaze. She narrowed the two orbs of blue fire, speaking in a voice filled with contemptuous unconcern, "What do you stare at, dark one? Crawl back to Niflheim!"

Despite the poison on her tongue, this earned a few laughs from the men. Herger stifled a chuckle as he turned away from Ahmed, who was at a loss.

"Let her go, Halga," said Buliwyf, stifling some sort of facial expression, "She poses no true threat. She's mad."

Set free, Skade wriggled away, leaping with seemingly superhuman agility to the trunk of a nearby tree, looking very much like a tree-dwelling creature as she clung to an overhanging branch. "What will you do, fools?"

"We will do as we planned to do," answered Buliwyf, his eyes steady on the maiden's face, "And you…will you continue to live like a beast?"

"If you don't find it honorable, you will find that Hrothgar lives as a rat chased into a hole by a hound! You will all die! Die!" She began to laugh madly, fanglike teeth bared. Ahmed looked aghast at her as the other men avoided her wild eyes. Was this girl like all the other women of this country? Wild, living like animals? He could almost believe it, but the other men seemed slightly surprised by her behavior, though it didn't upset them at all.

Buliwyf didn't seem fazed, his eyes calm. He simply turned to his men, making a signal that they should follow him. To Ahmed's surprise, he made the same signal to the girl. She stopped her mad laughter, tilting her head, "You wish me to follow you?"

"I am not without pity," he said flatly, not even looking at her as he spoke. And with that, he spurred his horse on. The rest of the men followed, and Ahmed did the same, keeping one eye on Skade. She didn't move for a moment, then she dropped lightly down from the tree, walking behind the horses. She was able to keep up well, he noticed, even if the horses were only at a brisk trot. He now noticed the stains of blood blotching the garment of animal skins that she wore.

_If this is an omen, it can't be a good one…_


	3. Death's Wolves

Chapter II

Death's Wolves

Ahmed was surprised at how well Skade had kept up with the pace the horses set. She seemed to jog or walk briskly beside them, level with their shoulders and effortlessly matching their strides. Her bare feet trod steady and sure on the treacherous ground, and Ahmed could see that she knew these woods better than anyone could ever hope to.

But her presence was disconcerting. At least to him. Buliwyf didn't seem the least bit concerned. He seemed to forget she was there.

Skade would alternate between whose horses she walked beside. She was most often in pace with Buliwyf's mount, as if attempting to prove something to him. Ahmed couldn't help but watch her in fascination. She would often look up, her wild face challenging as she stared at Buliwyf, who didn't even bother to return the glance.

The forest thinned, changing to rolling hills. Ahmed saw in the distance…a settlement, assortments of thatched huts through which a muddied, well-trodden road ran. It was a dismal picture, the sky a bleak, sickly gray color to loom over this rude corner of humanity.

_Nothing like home_ Ahmed thought despondently to himself.

Skade paused as she stepped out with the horses onto the open road. She seemed to hesitate, looking back at the forest. Ahmed could see in her face the desire to flee back into the wildness of the trees conflicting with a pride that would not allow her to show any change of mind.

As if he had expected this, Buliwyf had paused, turning his head to look at Skade. The girl stared back at him, her strange pale eyes filled with defiance. She stepped forward resolutely, coming up even with the horse's shoulder.

"Welcome to the land of cowards."

Her words were laden with poison as she spat them out bitterly. Buliwyf didn't seem moved. He simply nudged his horse forward. And Skade followed, still keeping pace.

It was still a long ride to the Mead Hall of King Hrothgar, mounted on the highest point of the settlement. By the time they had reached the building, Skade's bare legs were covered in mud from the calve down. Many of the townsfolk had gazed at her in fear and wonder, though the sight of thirteen fearsome looking warriors, especially that of Buliwyf himself, had already captivated them.

The men all dismounted their horses, going to the doors of the hall. Ahmed wondered if there was any sort of protocol in this culture that he must follow. But he saw the men simply walking into the hall, still fully armed. As he hesitated, he found that he had now fallen in beside Skade. He had to keep himself from wincing away from her. She was as tall, if not taller, as he himself was, and he could see the rigid muscles tensing beneath her pale, heavily scarred skin.

Skade turned her strange eyes toward him, her expression wild and scornful, "Frightened, Arab?"

"No. But you are."

She bared her teeth at him, starting rigidly into the hall. He followed after, feeling a smug satisfaction.

"You know he might be mad."

Herger's statement seemed ridiculous now, though Ahmed himself had battled with the question after seeing the frail old man that acted as king. Skade stood amid the circle of men, suddenly forgetting her enmity towards them. She spoke in a voice void of any real emotion, "Mad, yes…but what he says is true…"

Buliwyf was now taking special interest in Skade. He addressed her, "You lived in the forests your whole life?"

Skade's eyes squinted for a moment, and uncertainty flashed in her face. Then she nodded, "Yes…yes."

"Have you seen any of…them?" Buliwyf's eyes were trained on her now, intense and concentrated.

Skade paused before answering. She turned her face aside, the curtain of her hair shaking slightly. Ahmed's eye caught sight of four jagged scars crossing near her forehead, as if by the claws of some animal.

"This…" Buliwyf pushed aside Skade's hair, indicating the scars. He turned to his men, "You see this?" He turned his attention back to Skade, "What gave you this scar?"

"One of them," Skade's voice was flat and harsh, her eyes set on Buliwyf. "You see now why he is a fool? He cannot protect his own people…he does nothing but sit and wait for them to come!"

Ahmed saw some of the men looking at Skade with a type of awe and admiration. Skeld spoke in disbelief, "How did you escape one?"

"Was there more than one?"

"Did you see it clearly?"

"You were alone?"

"Enough." Buliwyf held up his hand for silence. Skade's head had bowed slightly as if under the weight of the sudden attention.

"Do you know much about them?"

She raised her wild eyes, "I…I don't remember…teeth and claws…but clubs and lances." She rubbed at a heavily scarred shoulder.

"I recognized this girl…" The men all turned, seeing Hrothgar's wife, the elegant Weilew, striding towards them, her eyes set on the wild girl. She reached them, taking Skade's scarred face in her hands, and Ahmed half expected the wild girl to snap with her strangely filed teeth at the queen, but she seemed riveted by the noblewoman, "Daughter of Aslaug…we thought everyone had been killed in that raid. It was at least ten years ago…" She stroked Skade's head as one would a dog to console it, "I'm sure of this…it is her…though she has suffered much, I would know one of Aslaug's brood. And look…"

Folding back Skade's animal hide tunic, Weilew revealed heavily muscled shoulders. Curving around the shoulder blades were two wolf tattoos, each stylized in the northern fashion. She nodded in satisfaction, "Yes, I was sure of it. Only Aslaug and her husband would mark a girl with Fenris and Mangramyn." Turning Skade back to face her, she spoke slowly, as if to a child, "Your name…it's Ötlu. Remember? Ötlu…"

Skade's eyelids flickered once, and then she seemed to hear.

"Ötlu…who is Ötlu?"

Ahmed looked to his companions. Now he knew this girl was mad. That scar must have been from a harsh blow to the head that caused her some mental damage. She couldn't remember whatever previous life she had once had.

"There was a raid on her village some years ago," Weilew explained, turning to the men, her hands still on the newly discovered Ötlu's shoulders, "Everyone was found dead. The bodies were so mutilated that we could not tell who was who. I don't know how she escaped."

She turned to Ötlu, speaking slowly again, "Do you remember? The wendol…" Many of the men shuddered as she spoke the dreaded name. "How did you escape them?"

"Wendol…wendol, wendol!" Ötlu shrieked out the name, her face changing to one of hatred, "Eaters of the dead! Spears and claws! So much blood…" She seemed to cower now, her eyes rolling over white quite suddenly, "A hole… mud…I hid in a hole, and one came after me…and I killed it!" She began to laugh madly, "Yes, I killed it! I broke its neck with my hands! It died in my arms!"

Her laugh sent a chill down Ahmed's spine, and he noted several of the men look with a mixture of fear and admiration toward the girl as she continued speaking, "I skinned it…I took its hide, and I escaped from them! They didn't see me! But I killed it! Yes, I killed it!" She seemed to dance in mad triumph, "And I killed more! Over these years, I've seen them in the forest, and I killed them! I killed them with my hands!"

Then she paused in her laughter, "But they don't stay dead…no, they come back…because of the heads!"

Buliwyf, his face unreadable, reached out and put a hand on the girl's shoulder, steadying her and forcing her to look at him, "Then you can tell us about them? You can show us where they hide?"

Ötlu stared at him as if she had not heard or understood his question. Then she responded, "They do not hide anywhere. They live with the mist. They _are_ the mist, and the mist is them!"

"But you can tell us about them?" Buliwyf was now giving her his full attention, and Ahmed thought he could sense a slight softening towards her…or a creeping admiration. But it appalled him…a young female should not be hardened to such conflict!

"Yes, I can tell you all you want! I want them to all die! Because I remember! I remember the killing, oh yes, the killing…and the blood, and the screams, and the bodies! So many bodies!" Her eyes rolled over into her head again, "I tripped over one…and I didn't know who it was! You can never tell who they are after they are dead! But no heads, no heads at all…all gone!" She began her mad laugh again.

"Take her inside," Buliwyf said to Weilew, shepherding Ötlu towards her. Ötlu didn't resist his help, and allowed Weilew to lead her inside. She was muttering under her breath, saying 'wendol' over and over again, coupled with some words Ahmed didn't know and assumed were curses. She and the queen soon disappeared inside the hall.

Buliwyf's eyes had followed the girl's retreat to the hall. He turned back to his men, and Ahmed thought he saw the hint of a smile on the Norseman's hardened face, "She's a credit to our kind."

Ahmed would have argued. The girl was a maddened savage! But in this culture, it seemed that an ability to fight against any enemy was well respected, no matter what morals the individual possessed.

He spoke now, voicing a concern, "But should we trust her anymore than we can trust the old man? She seems just as mad."

Herger shook his head, smiling grimly, "I trust the marks on her skin more than the babbling of her tongue, don't you?" Ahmed opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again.

There was no understanding these people.


End file.
